Slovakia Heart of Europe

"Champagne Sir?" said the waiter.

"Yes please," I replied, finishing off the glass I was holding and taking a new one from the tray.

I turned back round to the group of people I was with, and joined in the toast that someone had just proposed.

"Na Zdravie!" I said.

Well actually that's not exactly true. I probably said "Cheers!" or "Your health!" or even "Bottoms up!" But I definitely didn't say "Na Zdravie!"

You see, at the time I couldn't speak a word of Slovak. To be perfectly honest I hadn't realized that such a language existed, I probably thought our hosts were speaking Czech. Yet, despite my ignorance, there I was drinking champagne, eating caviar, and mixing with dignitaries, diplomats, ambassadors and MPs at a Champagne Reception inside the Slovak Embassy, in London.

***

A couple of weeks earlier, when I received the signed invitation from the Slovak Ambassador, it had come as a bit of a surprise. I had met with a Counselor from the Embassy a few months prior, to discuss an Online Tourist service that helped promote countries in the UK. Although, the Counselor was not very interested in the product, he was very hospitable and we ended up spending a further hour or so discussing politics, economics, tourism and culture.

It was then that I first learnt a little about the history and culture of Slovakia, and heard about the Gabcikovo Dam, the Tatra Mountains and the Velvet Divorce for the first time. As I went to leave, the Counselor presented me with a tourism pack about Slovakia, which included a colorful, illustrated book and a CD-ROM with many photos of the country. I remember leaving the Embassy thinking how charming and generous the people there had been. But even so, I was still very surprised when I received my invitation.

So there I was, a fortnight later dressed in my best suit and with the invitation in my inside pocket, walking through Kensington Palace Gardens, on my way to the Slovak Embassy. I had been to a number of meetings with Counselors from different countries over the few months prior to that day, so I was quite used to walking down the avenue of Embassies that runs parallel to Kensington Palace. However, on that day the journey from the Underground Station had been a little different.

It was only days after Diana, the Princess of Wales, and the newly crowned Queen of Hearts, had tragically died in a car crash in Paris. The whole of Kensington Palace Gardens had become a shrine to her, with mourners laying wreaths and sympathy cards everywhere. I could smell the flowers as I had left the Underground, but it still did not prepare me for the scene when I reached the palace gardens. It was like a sea of flowers. I don't think I had ever seen so many flowers. I too stood with the other mourners for a time, before finally continuing my journey to the Embassy.

As I walked down the avenue of Embassies and Consulates, I recognized a few of the beautiful buildings as ones where I had had meetings before. I passed the Royal Nepalese Embassy, the Russian Embassy, and many more. On and on I continued, until at last I reached the final two buildings on the street, which were in stark contrast to the others I had just passed. The first, a drab, gray affair, which looked like an old office block from the 60's, was in fact the Czech Embassy. Next to it, housed in an even more ordinary looking block, was my destination - the Embassy of the Slovak Republic.

Despite my longer than planned detour to Kensington Palace, I had still made it on time for the Champagne Reception. I fished out the invitation, from my inside pocket, and joined the queue. Once in the queue, it suddenly struck me what exactly was I doing there? I didn't know anyone, except for the Counselor and he might not even be there, I didn't know anything about Slovakia and it was the first time in my life that I had been to something like this before. I suddenly felt quite nervous. I quickly made a plan - once inside, head for the champagne!

The queue continued right through to the reception hall, where people were introduced one by one to the Ambassador and his wife. Having said hello to his Excellency, I went and got a glass of champagne and a plateful of nibbles, and went and looked for somewhere to stand. I spied an elderly, Asian gentleman, standing on his own and looking as uncomfortable as I felt, so I went and joined him.

I began to talk with the old man and discovered that he was actually from Vietnam. His English wasn't very good, and he seemed quite nervous, so he didn't say too much but occasionally nodded as I made comments about the weather and other equally uninteresting topics. I was just about to leave and get another glass of champagne, when we were suddenly joined by a group of people, one of whom said:

"Let me introduce you all to the Vietnamese Ambassador!"

I had been making small talk with an ambassador. Cool. I went and got another glass of champagne.

After a few glasses of the Bolly, I was beginning to feel more like networking, and I began to tag myself on to different groups of people. I ended up having an interesting conversation about Margaret Thatcher with a Conservative MP's wife, I spoke to a Minister from the island of Tonga, and also continued my conversation about Slovakia and the European Union with the Counselor I had met earlier that month. However, my most interesting encounter came near the end of the soiree, just as I was thinking of making a move.

On the far side of the room there was a small exhibition, presenting a number of sculptures by a Slovak artist. There was also an interesting, full color book on display with a history of the sculptor's work. It was the last of many that had been given out over the course of the evening. The artist was Arthur Fleischmann, who had recently died aged 94, in 1990, and I learned that he was in fact one of the most important sculptors of the twentieth century. I read that amongst many other famous pieces, he had been commissioned to do a sculpture of Queen Elizabeth II and also of Pope John Paul II.

As I was reading about Fleischmann, a middle-aged woman and a young man in his early twenties approached me. The lady, who appeared to be in her fifties, began to speak to me.

"I know it's awfully rude of me, but do you mind if I have that book you are reading," she said, "It's just that I had promised it to this young gentleman."

"No problem." I said, handing her the book.

She proceeded to write a message in the front of the book and then signed it. I noticed that she had signed it Joy Fleischmann.

By now I'd had enough glasses of champagne to ask this lady who she was. I reckoned that she could either be Fleischmann's daughter or granddaughter. I decided to err on the side of caution.

"Are you Arthur Fleischmann's granddaughter?" I asked.

"No, actually I was his wife," she replied. "I was quite young when I married him."

I continued to talk to Joy for awhile, and sensing that I was interested in her late husband's work, she promised to send me a signed copy of his book. A week later, my signed copy of the book about Arthur Fleischmann duly arrived in the post. To my surprise there was also a separate letter from the Slovak Embassy - an invitation to a classical concert at the Embassy.

I could get used to this, I thought.